A Gentleman Caller
by NMT
Summary: Your gentleman caller...Well, he's been calling on another. He loves his forbidden fruit...SakuNaru. M for language.
1. Bad Boy

_(tick tick tick)_

Sakura glanced at the clock hung on the wall for what was surely the sixth time in the past four minutes. It ticked out each passing second with steady indifference, the black arrows and numbers stark against its pale white face. A shadow obscured the one, seven, and eight in a dark slash over its surface, but it mattered not at all to her – she only cared about the short stub that drifted, slowly, past the visible four. The longer line that moved more quickly to the six.

In two minutes, it would be half past four in the morning. Half past four.

_(tick tick tick tick)_

It was significant only because it was unexpected. Unanticipated...Which meant something was wrong. Something was wrong that should never, _ever_ be wrong, and the anxiety struck her to the core. Under different circumstances, there would've been no cause for concern. But _now_...Now, there was only one explanation for it. One possibility.

Calamity.

That was what made it so terrible. Not the fact of the thing, but the _reason_...

...Because it was half past four, and she had yet to hear from Naruto.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know why.

_(tick tick tick tick tick)_

When he'd left at five in what was now yesterday's afternoon, he promised he'd be back before eleven. Before she had time to worry about him, as he knew she was prone to do. He walked out the door of the modest apartment she shared with him wearing his black-orange suit and a reassuring grin, waving and laughing and swearing that he'd be back before she knew he was gone.

She returned his smile. She nodded and told him that she would be just fine. She told him to go have fun, despite her misgivings about the company he departed with...

Kiba's visits to the bar had become too frequent for her continued comfort, and Ino was even worse.

_(tick tick tick tick tick tick)_

Sakura twisted the ring on her finger, glancing between it and the uncaring clock.

The small circlet was perfect – small enough to be invisible beneath her gloves, but beautiful enough to make her stare in wonder nearly every time she saw it. Diamonds, set deep in a ribbon of white gold so they wouldn't catch on anything. The words '_forever and a day'_ engraved on the inside in curling, elegant script...

It was a glittering, priceless band of beauty that he'd presented to her on one knee.

She still wondered, sometimes, where he managed to find the money to pay for it. The only conclusion she could ever come to was that he must have been saving up for a very, very long time.

_(tick tick tick tick tick tick tick)_

Turning her eyes to the clock, she stared at it and desperately hoped that he would come home soon, and safe.

_(tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick ti-)_

_Thwump._

She jumped, nearly falling out of the chair she'd been perched upon the edge of so uneasily. The sound – loud, unexpected, unanticipated – had shocked her, and she scrambled to gather her scattered senses. It seemed that her mind, which had been pulled so harshly out of its silent reverie, was rebelling, refusing to cooperate. She was incoherent. Being severely sleep deprived helped not at all.

_(what was—?)_

The door. It came from the door.

Sakura leapt to her feet, the chair skidding over the hardwood flooring and her hip thumping into the table she'd been seated beside. She paid the bruising throb no mind in the midst of her rush to reach the door and whatever was behind it. Her thoughts were a flurry of prayers that everything was okay, that he wasn't hurt, or—

_**THWUMP.**_

This sound was heavier than the first, and she paused with her hand hovering over the knob.

_(what—?)_

Laughter. A rough, baritone rumble, a tenor snicker, and a pealing soprano giggle.

Confusion flickered over her face.

She _knew_ those voices.

Before she could think it over, before she could rationalize the situation, Sakura had yanked open the door. The hinges squealed in protest.

She'd expected many things to be waiting for her in the hallway outside their apartment – _this_ was not one of them.

Naruto was there. Kiba, too. And Ino.

Kiba's coat was gone, and his netted shirt had holes in it. There was a damp, splattered stain over what remained of his clothes, darkening the black fabric – she could smell the thick, sweet tang of alcohol that came off of him from where she stood in the doorway. His brown hair stuck out in every direction, even more mussed than usual, and his headband was gone. His tongue refused to stay still, scudding incessantly over his teeth. His clawed fingers twitched. Clearly, he had energy to burn.

Ino wasn't in much better shape than he was. Her clothes hung loosely off of her body, the skirt too low and the shirt too high. The netting on her knees was torn, and one of the two that were typically on her elbows was missing. Her hair was tucked behind her ear, the ponytail let down in a fashion uncharacteristic of her. Kiba's black coat was slung over her bare shoulders, the sleeves hanging limp and empty beside her, much too long for her arms. She, too, stank of drink.

Sakura felt physically ill when she looked at Naruto.

The black-orange overcoat was unzipped, and nearly slipping off of one shoulder. Beneath, his chest was bare, his skin glistening with some filmy mixture of sweat and alcohol, the scent of which she caught more strongly than Kiba's. The waistband of his pants hung off of his hips, and his grey boxers were easily visible above it, as well as through the undone fly. The bandage that typically wound around his thigh was missing. His headband – for one – was still present, though it was tied hastily around his neck in a fashion too careless to have been done by him. The blonde spikes of his hair were sticky and damp, clumping together, clinging to his forehead and the back of his neck. His blue eyes were glazed, clouded, hooded.

He regarded her silently, tilting his head to the side as though wondering where she'd come from. Blunt confusion flickered over his face. Then, Ino let loose a high-pitched cackle, and his stupor was broken. He grinned, then sniggered, then burst out laughing. Kiba chuckled, his deep voice contrasting sharply with Ino's shrill tittering.

Sakura could only stare, horrified.

"N-Naru...Naruto...? What are you—"

"Nuh-nuh-_Naru-tooooo_." Ino keened, flinging a dramatic arm over her forehead in a malicious mockery of the expression on Sakura's face. "Oh, _Naruto_. What's going _on_, my dearest of _dears_? I'm so very _confused_ my _love_—" The performance was ruined when she snorted and burst into a fit of giggles. Again, Naruto laughed with her.

"—Naruto, oh _Naruto_..." Ino, recovering, flung her arms around Naruto's neck and hung there. He continued to chuckle. "Wherefore _art_ thou, _Naruto_...?"

Sakura's growing impression that this had to be some kind of cruel, repulsive nightmare was completed by the sight of Ino's tongue slipping out of the pink cavity of her mouth to run over Naruto's collarbone, tracing its way up his neck to the curve of his jaw, where her lips latched onto his ear. He shuddered, and Sakura looked at his face expecting – _praying_ for – disgust...only to see he shivered not in loathing, but rather in _pleasure_ at her unprecedented advances. The lopsided grin that pasted itself on his lips was happy in a thick, sluggish, stupid sort of way.

Her stomach lurched. She could feel the blood draining from her face, paling her.

_(oh god no no no no please no please)_

"He-ey..." Her eyes flickered to life when he spoke, the blank horror dissipating. "Sak'ra." He pushed a pouting, disgruntled Ino off of him, and Sakura brightened. Maybe, just maybe, he was coming to his senses, and—

Whatever hope she might've felt was lost when he slung his arm heavily over her shoulder. His breath, when he spoke, reeked of sake.

"I bin drinkin' with some friends, Sa...Sak-" He frowned, concentrating, and tried again. "...Sak'ra." He grinned widely at Kiba, winking. However, the grin disappeared when he tensed, his bare stomach contracting. His cheeks puffed out, and for a moment, she thought he was going to puke. Until he let loose a belch that had Kiba falling against the wall, crowing, and Ino crinkling her nose in disgust.

"Naruto, you're drunk." Sakura murmured, trying without much enthusiasm to push away his arm.

"Aw, dun' be like that, Sak'ra..." Naruto's tongue swiped over his lips, much like Kiba's had, and he pulled her closer. She was abruptly pressed against his chest, her hands jammed between them. She could feel his skin, sticky and slick against her arms. "How 'bout a little kiss, huh?"

"No, Naruto. You—_mph-!_" Her protest was muffled beneath his lips. Suddenly, his tongue was in her mouth, searching, running slickly over the back of her teeth. The heady odor of alcohol filled her nose and polluted her mouth, and she struggled in the crush of his arms. When one of his hands dropped down to fiddle with the hem of her shirt, she stiffened.

Chakra gathered in her palms. A brief pause, and then she shoved him away; he flew back against the wall. The plaster cracked where he rammed into it.

"I said _no,_ Naruto!" She snarled, swiping the back of her wrist over her mouth to rid her lips of his sour spit.

"Muh...mmn..." Naruto, dazed, tried to struggle to his feet. His shoes scudded over the carpet, and he was only halfway standing before he slumped into the broken wall.

When the blonde-haired girl moved to help him, Sakura hissed with all of the venom of an enraged viper. "Back _off_, Ino. Don't even _think_ about touching him again, you _bitch_."

"Hey, hey. No need to get all pissy, Sakura..." A hand on her shoulder, sliding down her back. She twisted around to look at its owner.

"Get your _fucking_ hand off of me, bastard." She snarled, raising her fisted hand.

Kiba wasn't the least bit perturbed by her subtle threat. "Oh, this ain't my fucking hand..." Hegrinned, baring inhumanly sharp, white teeth. His hand slid down further, no longer on her back.

A moment later, his smile was neatly shattered by the fist that slammed into his jaw. The force of it carried him into the wall, and there was a hollow, papery crunch. Somewhere behind them, Ino screamed. Frantic barking drifted through the window at the end of the hallway.

Sakura, glowering at Kiba, made a mental note to apologize to the landlady. She'd have to pay damage costs later.

"_Kiba!_"

She looked over her shoulder at a shrill whine. Her lips twisted unflatteringly when she spotted Ino, her pupil-less eyes locked on the groaning Inuzuka. She took a step forward, but faltered – Sakura still stood between them, creating a barrier that simply _breathed_ loathing and violence.

Ino balked at the look on her old friend's face.

"Sa...Sakura...We were just...just _joking_, you know...Joking—" She stuttered, smiling weakly and unconvincingly.

"You call this a _joke?_"

"Well...well, no, not _all_ of it, but—"

"You're _sick_." Sakura spat, her knuckles whitening as her fingers curled more and more tightly against each other. "Absolutely _disgusting_. And _you-!_" She turned on Kiba where he had stumbled to his feet and now stood, still and silent, bewildered. He jerked, clearly terrified by the prospect of facing her again. "Why don't you just get your ass the _fuck_ out of here? _Both _of you! I _never_ want to see your faces _again!_"

The pair wasted no time latching onto each other and darting down the hallway as quickly and efficiently as their unsteady legs would carry them. The result was three stumbles and one face plant before they vanished from sight, skittering around the corner and thudding noisily down the stairs.

Sakura turned back to the man who had married her – the man who, clearly, was still a boy. He'd crumpled in a heap where he'd fallen.

He was drunk.

Slammed.

Hammered.

Shit-faced.

Wasted.

And any other possible word for the effect of the Devil's Urine.

"Sa...Sak'ra..." He muttered, and his blue eyes fluttered. "Whass' goin' on...? Where's Ino—_hrk-_" His question was cut off when she yanked him up by the collar, dragging him inside and slamming the door behind them. There was the pitched buzz of trembling light fixtures as the force of it shook the apartment. She fumbled with the lock, her fingers trembling, while Naruto fought to get his feet under him.

"That _whore_ is _gone_, you fucking _bastard_." She growled, flinging him onto the floor. He landed with a heavy thud, followed shortly by a groan. "And what's going _on_ is that you're about to have the fucking _shit_ beat out of you. _Capisce_?"

"Naw...What-" His confused protest was interrupted when he yelped, tumbling and skidding until he thumped into the couch on the other side of the room; she'd kicked him.

"Get it _now?_" He fumbled for the edge of the couch, trying to pull himself up, while she strode deliberately across the room. "Does it all make sense _now_, you fucking son of a _bitch?_" Her fingers clamped around his damp, clumped hair, and she yanked his head back so he could see her face. The flush on his cheeks was thinning as the beating slowly sobered him. "How _dare_ you come back here like _this!_ How _dare you!"_

He barely had time to look terrified before she'd slammed him down into the floor, her knee digging into the dip between his shoulder blades. One hand pressed his cheek into the floor beneath. The pressure only increased when he moaned.

"You will _never_, _ever_ do something like this _ever_- _fucking_- _again!_" She thundered, digging her nails into the shoulder her roughing-up had bared. "_Ever!_" She gripped him brutally, accenting her words, and felt the skin split. Something warm and wet pooled around her fingertips.

"Sa-_Sak'ra_-" He whimpered, and she could see a damp glisten on his bruised cheek in the scant glow of the streetlight outside.

"My name is _Sakura! SA_-_KU_-_RA!_" She almost screamed it, her voice cracking.

"Sa-ku-ra..." He pronounced it with the unfamiliar caution of a stranger, learning the sound of each syllable as though he'd never heard them, as though her name had not passed his lips countless times before.

_(drunk)_

_(for the love of god he's _drunk_)_

In one smooth motion, she flung him onto his back, his shoulders smacking against the floor with a solid whack of bone against wood. Her knee, temporarily displaced, jammed into his stomach, effectively winding him. He gasped and gagged, somewhere between trying to breathe and trying _not_ to vomit.

"_Fuck_ you, Naruto Uzumaki!" It was a broken howl, and the fist she pounded into the side of his face – easily enough to slam him sideways onto the floorboards – was driven by her agony, fueled by her anger.

She yanked him up by the front of his coat, his head lolling on his neck. A second blow knocked him back down in the other direction, a splat of blood darkening the floorboards. The sound of his skull striking the floor was a sharp, heavy crack in the still air of the living room.

This time, Sakura didn't pull him back for more, and he didn't move. The only indication he was still alive was the meager rise and fall of his chest.

"_Fuck you!_" Sakura hiccupped, the taught lines of her anger slackening. "_Fuck you._ _Fuck_ you. Fuck _you_. Fuck you..."

Her mantra of curses descended into sobs.

-----XXX-----

**This was inspired by the song **_**A Gentleman Caller**_**, by Cursive.)**


	2. Bad Girl

The sky was still dark when she closed the door of the apartment behind her. The thin cloud cover hid the stars and smothered the moon until it was little more than a faint halo of light, far outdone by the streetlamps that cast their yellow-orange glow on everything beneath them.

This district was still. The soft clack of her shoes over the rough pavement was the only sound that broke the quiet of early morning. The windows of the buildings that lined the street were shuttered against the world outside, sleeping and silent. The birds who typically heralded the arrival of the sun were still in their nests, heads tucked beneath their wings. Even the wind, which usually took it upon itself to ruffle her hair, had withdrawn for the time.

It was the timeless hour just after the night creatures slept, and just before the day creatures woke. Nothing made a move, and nothing made a sound...

...with the exception of herself, of course.

Sakura shivered and hugged her arms closer to herself, the air too cool on her bare shoulders. There was no warmth to be had out here...but she couldn't be in that apartment anymore. Not now, when it reeked of blood and sweat and sake and a memory too bitter to swallow. She'd choked in that sticky, oppressive atmosphere. In comparison, even the chill of the empty streets was preferable.

Now that she was free, though, and now that her breath came easy through her clattering teeth, she wasn't sure what to do. More than anything, she wanted someone to talk to. Someone to just..._talk_ to. She didn't want answers. She didn't want suggestions. She didn't want promises that everything would be fine, because she didn't want to hope for that when they might _not_ be fine...

But a listening ear she could take. It was the only thing she needed. Not someone to talk to, or talk _at_...someone to _listen_.

The first person that came to mind was Hinata. But, no. The Hyuuga woman was much too enamored with Naruto, even now. Sakura would rather not shatter her image of the supposedly 'perfect' man if she could help it...but only because it would hurt Hinata more than it could ever hurt _him_. She didn't want that.

Shikamaru slipped more slowly into her consciousness. Though it only took a moment to decide that he would be utterly useless in this particular situation. He was too logical, too cool-headed. He would analyze her more than he would empathize with her, and she _certainly_ didn't want that.

Lee? Maybe, if he were a little less emotional. As it were, he was too enthusiastic, too prone to fawn, too completely _obsessed_ with her despite the recent change in her marital status. She knew he wouldn't settle for listening and silence. He would act. He would try, in some way, to help her. To ease her pain. To guide her to happiness.

None of which she wanted. Not from him, at least.

There was always her old sensei, but...it wouldn't have been right to talk about this with him. He would make some kind of painfully sensible suggestion, and she would have no choice but to follow it, if only because she wouldn't be able to think of any reason why not. But something would always be off between Naruto and herself if the thing that mended their relationship was _Kakashi_.

There was no one else she could confide in. No one who was right, or who was close enough.

Except, maybe...

There was always _him_. Unlike Hinata, he wasn't the least bit interested in Naruto beyond shallow companionship. Unlike Shikamaru, he had emotions, but unlike Lee, he wasn't prone to being carried away by them. And unlike Kakashi, he might have an idea of what she would do, but he wouldn't share it unless she asked to hear what he had to say. He was close enough. He was _right_.

Sakura turned around to head in a different direction, new deliberateness in her steps.

Sai. She would go talk to Sai.

-----XXX-----

It felt like it took a long time, after Sakura had knocked, for him to answer. The seconds dragged. For a moment, she considered leaving – going somewhere else, to someone else. Sai needed the weight of her troubles no more than anyone else did...

...But, despite herself, she stayed.

Maybe it was because she knew he could withstand whatever battering she might deal on his underdeveloped emotions. Maybe it was because she wanted to speak with someone so desperately and selfishly that she didn't care if he was bothered by it. Maybe it was because he reminded her so much of the Sasuke she'd known as a girl – the Sasuke she would've gone to now, if he were still part of the village – that she _couldn't_ leave.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the muted clicking of locks.

She was almost surprised to see him standing there, when the door opened – she'd expected his appearance to be preceded by a soft glow of light, leaking out from beneath the door. How peculiar it was that the apartment was dark.

"Sakura?" Puzzlement played across his face. It was one of the many expressions he'd experimented with over the years, and with time and practice he'd perfected it.

"Hey, Sai." She murmured, turning her eyes away from his.

It was suddenly hard to face him, knowing what she had come to discuss.

"It's very early to be making house calls, isn't it?" He asked, confused and intrigued and concerned; more examples of his ongoing investigation in the field of human feelings.

Sai's 'studies' were...interesting things. It seemed they had taken him everywhere there was to go in the emotional spectrum. He'd tested jealousy, kindness, arrogance, melancholy, humility, bravado...He'd even experimented with 'stupidity' for a thankfully brief period of time. Afterwards, he made a point of asking Naruto how he could survive like that every minute of every day.

She almost smiled, recalling the look on Naruto's face.

Then, of course, she remembered it was _Naruto's_ face.

Her eyes grew hot, and her vision blurred. There was a choking, gagging knot in her throat that made the low whine she emitted sound strangled. She could feel her mouth twist and her face contort, making her ugly with misery.

Sakura had told herself many times on the way over that she wouldn't cry in front of Sai. She would tell him what had happened, and she would tell him how she felt about it, and she might rant and scream and snarl...but she would _not_ cry. If she cried, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop, and Sai _especially_ didn't need to deal with _that_.

But remembering Naruto – remembering how he had looked back then, seventeen and grinning, full of warmth and comfort and happiness even when he was angry...

Something damp and unpleasant slid over her cheek, tracing a glimmering trail over her skin, and the dam broke.

Sakura wasn't entirely certain how she ended up sitting on the less-than-comfortable couch that graced Sai's living room, her arms wrapped around her heaving stomach while her hands clutched at her sides. She could hear herself blubbering and gasping, stumbling over half-formed words and fragmented sentences. Her face was wet, and the wetness dripped down to splatter over her arms and thighs.

She heard, distantly, the sound of the door closing, though she didn't see the darkening of the apartment as its sole source of light was cut off; her eyes were closed. She shook her head, fingers fisting in the cloth of her shirt, while her lips formed soundless words—

_(no no no no no no no no no)_

—and her chest shuddered with her ragged, uneven breathing.

Then he was back. She knew it not because she heard him, or saw him, but rather because she felt him. She felt the slight dip in the cushion beside her, and the coolness of his hand on her shoulder.

It took her a while to understand the words he whispered to her.

"What happened? What's wrong?" His voice had worry in it, concern, confusion – he didn't understand why she was acting the way she was, or what had caused it.

"Nuh-Naru...Naruto-" Her voice was broken by lurching breaths and whines, the words tumbling from her lips without rhythm or rhyme. "He- he- he was...was d-_drunk_, and, he...he wuh-was..." The rest of the sentence was lost, impossible to understand.

He didn't press her. He just listened, as she knew he would. There was understanding in his silence, and in the way he seemed content to let her cry herself dry. He wouldn't console her, and he wouldn't try to dam up the steady flow of her pain. He would wait it out with her...and when she was done, he would listen.

Just..._listen_.

"A-and _Ino_ was th-theh-there, and- and she...she..." Gulping and gasping, her words as erratic as her breathing, she tried desperately to explain. "...on him, and- and he- he _liked_ it—"

He listened.

"And I- I—" _Beat the shit out of him_. "—and he just...he...he's—" _unconscious. He just passed out, and now he's unconscious_. "I- I _left_, and...and he's still..." _Still there. Still out like a light. Still bleeding, I'm sure._

She felt the hand on her shoulder tighten its grip.

He listened.

Again, her broken chains of words descended into complete incoherency.

She couldn't have guessed, later, how long she cried. Maybe minutes, maybe hours. Maybe only a few seconds passed before he tilted his head, trying to see her face, and asked in a low whisper,

"What are you going to do now?"

Ah, Sai. Sai, who did not press her for more, but simply seemed to understand. Sai, who did not question, or judge, or offer his help. Sai, who kept his ideas and suggestions to himself. Sai, who could be expected to remain cool and calm with a fire licking over his back.

Sai prompted her, and Sakura thought.

After a long silence, he asked another soft-voiced question.

"What do you _want_ to do?"

"What do I _want_ to do?" Her voice, grating and rough and wet from her whimpers and sobs and howls, had an unexpected edge, from which he did not flinch. "I want...I want to make him..._hurt_...I want to make him feel what I felt, when he came home with...with that..."

She paused, and her throat convulsed, swallowing whatever lump had formed there. Her eyes fluttered, blinking away the wet glisten that filled them.

"...that _whore_, Ino, attached to his neck..."

"You want to get back at him?" He inquired, arching thin brows, his dark eyes latched onto hers.

"..._Yes_." Sakura hissed, and the single, simple word dripped with venom. "I do, Sai. I want to get back at him. I want to get _even_..."

"How?"

She paused at that, her gaze flicking to the polished surface of the short-legged table that squatted in the middle of the room.

The silence that stretched between them was interrupted by the distant ticking of an indifferent clock.

_(tick tick tick tick)_

"I...I don't know how I would-"

"I could help you."

She looked at him sharply, bemusement briefly replacing the grimace that marred her features. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "_What?_"

"I could help you," He repeated, unperturbed by her evident surprise. "If you want."

She stared at him, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly while her mind was yanked in several different directions at once.

_(with sai)_

_(no no not with sai)_

_(just like sasuke just like sasuke just like sasuke)_

_(sai)_

_(get back at him get back at him)_

_(he offered it so take it just take it take it take)_

_(sai is just like sasuke just like him)_

_(just like him)_

Sai stared back, unmoving.

And the clock continued to tick.

_(tick tick tick tick tick tick)_

She glanced down at her hands, and a frown played over her face.

"I..."

He listened.

"I..."

He watched.

"...Yes." She looked up at him. "Yes." Her mumble was repeated, rising confidence in her voice. "Yes. _Yes_. I _do_ want, Sai."

He nodded, and a smile tickled the corner of his mouth. The thought that a smile would never look quite right on him flickered through her mind, a passing observation.

"Your assistance..." Sakura leaned closer to him, as though whispering a scandalous secret. "...is most definitely accepted."

The bitter grin on her face was smothered by his lips.


End file.
